The Truth
by Thatdragonrider
Summary: In the afterlife Sasuke is approached by someone supposedly familiar that tells him he must figure out who exactly he is and why he looks the way he does to find salvation in the afterlife. Discontinued.


**So this isn't at all Sasodei, clearly. AND it's another story but I've tried to write B&R, however, literally NOTHING IS FUCKING COMING OUT…. Wait that is weird for guy/guy pairing. But wait whatever, anyways I've been staring at a blank screen for over an hour. So instead, I think I'm going to try this out. And I would be VERY surprised if any of the people (all three of them) who read my usual stories are even checking this out, but yeah. Now I don't actually like Sasuke as a character, I actually tend to hate him, HOWEVER I do like SasuNaru/Narusasu. So why not? It'll add variety to my little archive.**

**Also I'm not sure how OOC Sasuke is but like for the record, he's not really being himself here is intentional cause it's kind of like a blank person I guess. However he should be back to normal and I'm pretty sure I'm going to write in 3****rd**** person from now on for the most part.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Masashi Kishimoto does.**

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_In death there is salvation_

Thin, cool fingers wrap around my neck, but there was never any pressure. It was a calloused hand and the only discomfort came from how it was the only thing I felt, the one thing that kept me grounded. But to what? I couldn't feel anything. Yet _I could feel his hand_. Why was there a hand there in the first place? What an odd placement…

Should I open my eyes? Would it mean anything if I did? If I were to tell him to stop then would I just float away? It certainly felt that way. The questions came and went, none of them really bringing any significance. Suddenly it just felt really _un_important that his hand was even on my neck.

As if my thoughts were spoken, the hand was retracted and there too I felt nothing, no longer feeling my neck at all. "You don't want to wake up?" He spoke and it sounded so emotionless. But it was like he was attempting to be my anchor. If not physically then something must keep me here. He was willing it to be him as if he wanted to evoke me into feeling something and being awakened.

But I wasn't asleep was I? After all, I could hear his voice, we were _practically_ communicating. This is communication right? It's a hard question to answer by myself because nothing is coming to mind to tell me otherwise or to even agree. And things _shouldn't_ be hard, not now. At least it feels that way.

"You really should though. You're a drifting soul and there's only so much that I can do by myself." Again, it's said as if he doesn't actually care one way or another, but there was a hint of warning. _Don't drift_.

What did he mean anyway by wandering soul? _Was I dead_? This question actually triggers something. It wasn't anything unpleasant or harsh, just _something_. I don't remember dying and aren't you supposed to know whether you're dead or not? Then again I don't really remember being alive. All I can remember are these last moments and everything else seems nonexistent.

I opened my eyes, just to know whether I was alive or not, not sure though whether it mattered or what either even looked and felt like. I do it slowly because the action felt like weighted sandbags. First, I notice I'm standing and it's a surprise because people sleep lying down. Second is that I wasn't actually standing. It was if were floating. To be standing you need to be on top of something and there was _nothing _under me. Nothing was beside me or behind me and only he stood in front of me.

A little farther than a foot away, he stood and he was the only colorful thing here besides me. This place was neither black nor white or any color in between, maybe that's because I was supposed to be focused on his brilliance of color. Or maybe wandering souls just don't need colors. After all, I had been more than willing to not open my eyes. However, he definitely made up for the lack of color elsewhere.

The unruly hair that rested on his head was a golden yellow; in some points it came just in front of his eyes, and others it would fluff out. His skin was tanned and sun kissed. The facial features were average but childish looking, almost a foxy glint to them. Only he had a blank face and the only traces of the childish look were reminiscent. His eyes though was the one thing I could focus on for more than brief glances and it felt like I was trapped within them, drowning in their pools of ocean blue, filtered by the light of fire within him.

"Who are you?" I can't help but notice my voice has the same emotionless quality. Dead. Monotone. Apathetic.

He glanced down, breaking our eye contact, and raised his taut arm wonderingly. He gazed at it for only a second before dropping it back to his side and looking back at me, "That's a good question. Whom do I look like?"

It's a reasonable enough question but nobody comes to mind. There isn't another person I'm able to picture, only him. My eyebrows furrow slightly, "I don't know."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The action is supposed to be a normal mannerism but it doesn't feel normal at all. "That's a shame, because I don't know either."

"… You don't know who you are?"

He shrugs, "Not exactly. I don't know who you see me as." There's a pause and as I glance down at my own self, I realize my chest isn't moving. I'm not breathing, this thought does not trigger something, as if reading my thoughts he drawls out in a bored voice, "_'And the intoxication of death will bring the truth. That is what you were trying to escape._'"

I glance up, slightly surprised at the random quote and more surprised at having recognized the quote, "The Quran? Is that the religion that was right about the afterlife? Are you God?" He looked very unholy to be God and maybe a little too average.

He tilts his head in consideration, his eyes resuming an absent look in them and with the fringe shifting across an eye, "No. I'm sure there's a god here somewhere; you just weren't drifting towards them. You were going somewhere… else." His eyes narrow thoughtfully as he gazed behind me.

When I glanced behind me, I saw the same nothingness that was everywhere else so I turned back. "To what? Hell?" Isn't the conversation in the afterlife supposed to be more emotional? Why did neither of us express anything?

Once again his eyes slides towards me, their darker hue possibly telling me he knew what I was thinking but didn't care to say anything, "Not necessarily. I'm not sure if this place even has locations, just you weren't going the right direction." It sounded like he was contradicting himself.

"Isn't there no locations?" I look around for emphasis, not even being able to tell if this place was really big or very small, before looking at him.

He nodded slowly, but unlike me, didn't break our eye contact. "Right, however there are destinations."

"There's a difference?"

He muses this over, not answering right away, "I would like to think so, wouldn't you?" I shrugged unconcernedly, again feeling that I was missing out on the big afterlife speech on my salvation or whatever anyone preached about this place. "Well, I guess you are the one dead, not me."

This caught my attention and I don't really understand what it is that he's saying, "… You're not dead?"

He shakes his head, "No, I never lived in the first place. I'm apart of this place, kind of like a shepherd to souls like you: just here to make sure you don't stray, whether that means telling you the truth or not."

Again, I can only think of the Quran quote he said earlier. "What truth? Does it even matter?" There are no memories forming, no pictures in my head. Why do I need truth for something I don't remember?

He looks back down at his arm, more curious than I am on whom he is. "Something has to or you wouldn't have been seeing me like this."

I blinked uncomprehendingly, everything coming out sluggishly, "What as a blond guy?"

"I guess if he's most important person in your life."

I look him over again but still no one comes to mind, which raises the question once again: _how important is all of this anyways_?

He sighed, clearly becoming exasperated, "It's more important than you realize, actually. You want 'salvation', 'peace in the afterlife'? Whatever it is they tell you death will bring? Huh? That's what you're wanting from me right? What you keep moping about? Then you're going to have to _fucking listen_."

I glanced up, breaking our eye contact, still feeling apathetic towards all of this, "I _am _listening." It isn't even a mutter.

His eyes narrow and for only a brief moment does he look truly otherworldly and deadly eyes that didn't belong to his shell. His eyes now betraying all of his uncaring demeanor and how he truly couldn't care so long as he succeeds, "Is that what you call _this_? Maybe you don't get it, but this place isn't the place to do this whole 'indifference'. There isn't a set amount of years where you get a new beginning, this is the end and it's a long one, _Sasuke_."

The voice wasn't his when he says my name. It was someone… familiar, someone- I gasped as pain shot through to my forehead, the feeling like I'm on fire, and every orifice of mine is being scorched beyond recognition. I can't even scream but it's all over just as soon as it came. I wasn't breathing to begin with so I didn't gasp but I'm on my knees, crouched with hands pressing forcefully against my forehead, as if trying to peace it back together.

"_That_ is exactly why it's all important, you need to find out what caused that much pain in your life, what you just felt and then you may do whatever so pleases you." His voice is back to normal and I can almost hear his drawl of breath as he watches over me.

"What was that?" _Now_ my voice shakes.

"Don't know. But you'll find out." _And if I don't_? "And if you don't then it intensifies and all this that you don't appreciate, it becomes much worse." His voice becomes thoughtful and his frown is evident from it. And that's when I understand his glances. He's not seeing what I am, when he looks around he sees things and people and he sees souls that don't find out the truth.

I close my eyes and once again I can almost imagine being alone in the emptiness, "Fine, how do I do it?"

There's a tap on my shoulder and I slowly open my eyes once more. He's kneeling down in front of me grinning, and I notice how his eye looks so normal again, "Oh, that's the easy part."

He slowly reaches out and touches my forehead and there's a light blue light coming from the chilling contact. Then everything's black, a describable color.

_In death there is salvation, but for_ _whom_?


End file.
